


Slow to Heal

by MadameFolie



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Breakfast, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 16:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameFolie/pseuds/MadameFolie
Summary: The first time they talk for real. Of course, with people as with wounds, reconnecting rent edges takes patience and time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Synchronised Screaming flashfic challenge. The theme was "communication". Someone knows I'm a sucker for these two.

**Onni/Reynir** \- terrible Icelandic

 

 

  
The space on his wrist where the needle used to be is now a sickly-yellow bruise flecked with bloodspots. Reynir is fidgeting at his knees.  
  
“There’s some porridge if you want,” he tells Onni. “Tuuri says you’re probably pretty hungry right now. So I can get you some if you want.”   
  
Onni nods. His neck is stiff from disuse. “Thank you.”  
  
What Reynir returns with is a bowl of something warm and spiced; it smells as if there’s been some honey spared for him. Reynir takes up his seat half-off the sofa once more, though not without hesitating at the sight of the bruise.  
  
“I guess even powerful mages can’t do everything,” he says. “Still.” And at that he curls a long hand over Onni’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay. You kind of scared me there, you know.” Onni frowns at his meal.  
  
“It’s perfectly fine,” he tries to say. Lesser mages have endured worse, or so he’s heard. “I’m more than capable of handling this.”  
  
“Maybe. But.” Reynir’s hand lingers a moment longer than necessary in pulling back. “Take care anyway.”  
  
And they find themselves in silence. Onni eats. Reynir exudes nervous energy. It’s distracting. And uncomfortable. Almost as if he’s taken it upon himself to sustain the conversation at every cost. Onni watches the way his hands stutter and twist in his lap for some minutes before the reserve begins to wash over him as well.   
  
“I….” He curses inwardly. What was the word again? “I am glad you are unharmed as well,” he tries. He believes that is what he has said. Reynir is frowning at his own lap.  
  
“….sorry?” He looks as if he means it.   
  
“I am glad,” Onni offers again, feeling his face grow warm. “I am glad to see you well.” He’s beginning to feel foolish. He can’t meet Reynir’s eyes.  
  
“I don’t….”   
  
Damn it. Damn it all. Onni reaches for Reynir’s– no, he can’t– but– he fits his hand to Reynir’s skull, secure beneath his ear to pull him close. Reynir’s forehead is cool and clammy against his. Onni swallows, but doesn’t dare open his eyes.   
  
Maybe it’s just as well. There are some things not suited to words either way.


End file.
